


Kids Today

by belivaird_st



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Set in Modern Time Era, Carol can’t seem to comprehend Rindy’s love and devotion for squishy & slime toys.





	Kids Today

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of writing comes from my own personal work experience in the retail world. When I had put myself in the Toy Department for my entire shift surrounded by squealing, hyperactive annoying children running up and down through the aisles, I’ve taken notice that most of their minds & hearts are set on anything cold, stretchy, or colorful. Why that is? No clue. But it’s true.
> 
> So I thought, hmm. What would it be like if Rindy was just like them? How would Carol feel about it???

“Mom, can we get this?”  
“What’s that?”  
“This squishie here! Look!”  
Carol turned her head away from the 75% Clearance sale on the Christmas wrapping paper, bows & garland, to look at a package containing a rubber marshmallow cube with a pair of twinkly eyes and a wide open pink mouth. Seated in front of the shopping cart, her daughter shook the scented toy inside the crinkly plastic.  
“What the heck is it?” Carol reached her hand out to squeeze the item. It felt soft and squishy like a stress ball, except it was shaped as a rubber cartoon marshmallow instead. Rindy took it back from her.  
“Can we, Mommy?”  
“What’s it called again?”  
“Squishie!”  
Carol looked past the child to the cardboard box on the shelf that was holding all the different kinds of Squishies. The price label underneath read they were $7.88 each.  
Eight dollars! No freaking way!  
“No honey, let’s put it back,” Carol decided.  
Rindy whined.  
“We can probably get the exact same thing at a lower price online,” Carol reasoned with her.  
Rindy seemed fine with that and gave the Squishie toy a flip-toss back inside the cardboard box with the rest of them.

Minutes later when Carol was putting a few packaged of name tags and holiday tin card holders into the shopping cart, Rindy found another toy she wanted. Leaning over sideways, she grabbed plastic jars containing neon colors of slime. Orange. Pink. Green. She had managed to grab a pink and orange one of each.  
“What about these ones?”  
“What, baby?”  
Carol peered up from the basket side of the cart to look at the colorful slime. Horrifying images of the gooey stuff getting everywhere on everything inside the house—Rindy’s clothes, the furniture, the car—came to Carol’s mind, disgusted.  
“Nope. Absolutely not.”  
“Please?”  
“That stuff is gross, Rindy,” Carol said. “Why kids’ obsession over slime and squishy stuff is far beyond me!”  
“Daddy will buy it for me when I go see him,” Rindy said matter-of-fact.  
“That’s fine,” Carol smiled. “Daddy can buy you all the slime in the world at his house, so then he can happily clean the mess you’ll make soon after!”  
“Yeah,” Rindy agreed, still not old enough to get the sarcasm inside her mother’s voice.


End file.
